Daddy’s Forbidden Fantasy (An Erotic Romance Series)

Chapter 9

Sasha

I’m not sure what’s going on exactly. After I danced for Fred in his office, my entire life took one-eighty. Because he’s so dirty that it astonishes me, I literally don’t know what to say. The first time the billionaire tasted me, I burst on his mouth, juices flying everywhere, drenching him.

But Fred wasn’t turned off at all. Because after I was done, he lifted his head, making me gasp. Oh my god, had I done that? My nectar coated him completely, from forehead to chin, even dripping off in rivulets. But the alpha didn’t care at all. He merely growled before dipping his head and going for another deep lick at my snatch, getting a second juicy taste.

“Daddy,” I gasped.

“I’m so sorry. Here, let me get you a towel because I didn’t mean to ….” My voice trailed off, embarrassed.

“Didn’t mean to come so hard?” he growled, blinking his eyes clearly.

Oh my god, my juice was even in his lashes, I’d completely doused the alpha.

But Fred is f*****g dirty because he smiled through the c*m bath.

“This s**t is good, honey, don’t be embarrassed. I’ve done a good job if a female comes this hard. I think you’re a sprayer.”

I gasped.

“A sprayer?” was my shocked whisper.

“What’s that?”

He rumbled deeply before wiping that handsome face with a towel.

“Baby, some women come so hard they squirt their juices. It’s beautiful when it happens, arcing through the air in a rainbow. But some girls,” he added with a lewd grin, “are sprayers. When you come, it’s not a single arc. It’s a f*****g shower, you shower your man with female jizz.”

And I blushed, heart beating fast, p***y pulsing again. Because I’d just come so hard on this man’s face that he could barely see, it was in his nose, lashes, and even dripping off his chin. But instead of being disgusted, Fred was actually eating it up, reveling in the details. Holy s**t, the alpha was so dirty.

But I love it. I absolutely love it. It’s shocking, absolutely crazy.

Because what innocent virgin does this? What sweet princess comes like this, drenching a man’s face in gobs of honey?

But I couldn’t get enough because the next day, when Fred invited me to his apartment, of course I said yes. It’s wrong. He’s the man who controls my future, the one who literally handles my scholarship and signs my small paycheck. So what am I doing, sneaking off to his apartment?

But when he let me in, all my doubts dropped away. Because the man was so gorgeous, imposing, and huge in that black suit, and I went soft inside all over again, p***y moistening on its own. Those blue eyes sparkled, his nose sniffing gently like he could smell my cunt.

But instead of ravishing me in the doorway, Mr. Hamburg actually behaved normally, giving me a tour of his palatial apartment.

“And here,” he rumbled casually, “is bedroom number three.”

I peered inside, eyes wide. Just like numbers one and two, there was a huge king-size, perfectly made up with a dozen throw pillows, plush pile carpeting, and an accompanying en suite.

“Mr. Hamburg,” I said breathlessly.

“Why do you have so many bedrooms? Is there someone else living here?”

The dark man smiled at me, that lazy blue gaze trailing over my curves.

“Naw, it’s just my housekeeper and me,” he said.

“And Conchita doesn’t live here, she just comes in the mornings to clean and cook.”

I nodded. That made sense, he was a single guy who worked all day.

How dirty could the apartment get? But the billionaire still hadn’t answered my question.

“Mr. Hamburg,” I tried again.

“Why do you have so many bedrooms? How many are there in total? I’ve seen three, but are there more?”

That white grin flashed again.

“In fact there are,” he rumbled.

“Here’s number four,” he said, throwing another door open,

“And here’s number five,” he said, letting a door to the left swing open.

“You can never have enough.”

I googled because sure enough, just like numbers one through three, bedrooms four and five were immaculately appointed with the same king-size mattress and corresponding en-suites. Entire families could live in each room, you could fit four people on those giant beds.

I turned slowly to him.

“You’re so lucky,” I murmured.

“You’re so lucky because back in Kansas, my mom and I shared an apartment smaller than one of these bedrooms.”

The big man’s eyes flared.

“Well, you’re not in Kansas anymore, baby girl. This is New York City, and anything goes.”

I nodded. Anything goes clearly includes five bedrooms for a single guy. Why didn’t he convert one of them into a sitting room, or a den? I thought guys always had a private man cave in the basement where they drank beer and watched sports. But maybe the billionaire had another apartment where he did that stuff. Again, anything was possible when it came to Mr. Hamburg.

So smiling once more, I turned to him.

“What else do you have up your sleeve?” I asked playfully.

“Any more hidden studios, walls that roll away to reveal practice spaces?”

He pretended to think.

“Well, I do have an ice skating rink,” he said drolly.

“I do have my own rink complete with complimentary skates and a Zamboni to clean the ice.”

I goggled, eyes wide. Seriously? Oh my god, that was a luxury beyond my wildest imagination. A private ice skating rink?

But the billionaire laughed then.

“Naw, baby girl, I was just kidding. I don’t have a private rink, that’d be insane in the city. But if you want to go to Rockefeller Center for a special skating session, I’m pretty sure I can get them to clear it out for us. I know the CEO, he’ll get us in,” Mr. Hamburg added with a wink.

And I looked at him, stunned. Because the extravagance of his life that blew me away. Private ice skating at Rockefeller Center? Where did they have the big Christmas tree and film the Today show? It was a luxury that I never dreamed of, connections that were so powerful that anything could happen.

But that’s right, anything could happen and I had nothing to offer Mr. Hamburg. So why was he being so nice to me? Why was he spending time with a small-town girl who had nothing but dreams?